Shower
by L122yTorch
Summary: Lately Kirk has been failing to be the overly-dramatic, charismatic leader that the crew knows and loves. He walks as though there is a weight on his shoulders and his eyes are dark and serious. He looks tired and spends long hours in the shower. Spock has become increasingly concerned about his captain, and after waiting long enough, decides to confront him.
1. Chapter 1

He shared a bathroom with Spock. A fact that Jim neglected completely as his shower stretched into a second hour.

His back was against the slick surface of the shower wall. Instead of a sonic shower, he opted for real water. Standing beneath it as the mildly tempered water beat down on his head and shoulders, flowed in rivers down his arms & chest and split into tiny streams upon his fingers before falling to the floor.

He closed his eyes and listened intently to the sound of his breathing and the water cascading around him.

He hadn't been sleeping well. Either Jim awoke in a torrent of panic as he recalled his death or his dreams were heady with a lust for his first officer. Either way, he woke up in a strangle hold of sweat-soaked sheets. If he wasn't screaming from the feeling of his oxygen starved lungs as he lay withering away from radiation, he was moaning into the dark quarters as he bucked against his mattress.

Heavy bags nestled beneath his spark-less blue eyes and his body felt perpetually tense. The warmth of the shower helped loosen the tight muscles in his neck and alleviate the near constant sleep-deprived headache he was experiencing.

Crystalline water droplets caressed his closed eyelids and tickled his eyelashes.

He was so engrossed in the thought of not thinking the the voice that suddenly appeared in his bathroom made his heart stumble. "Captain?"

Spock.

"Yeah…" he said, the words reaching past the humidity and the closed door into Spock's chambers. Spock stood on the other side of the door. "Are you alright? You have been bathing for a considerable amount of time."

Shit. Fuck. How long have I been in here? Jim wondered.

Immediately he snapped the water off and stood in the shower feeling naked and exposed under the familiar questioning voice. "I uh…I'm fine," the words sounded like a lie, even to his ears.

"I'm sorry Spock…do you need to use the bathroom?"

"No."

There was a beat of silence. Jim's heartbeat sped up. He felt so foolish that not only had he spent a near eternity locked in the bathroom, but that Spock knew about it.

"I do wish to talk with you," Spock said. Jim grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his now prune-like body. "Yeah, sure. My quarters, two minutes," he said as his side of the bathroom door whirred open. The cold air from his room hit him square in the chest, and made his hair stand on end.

He wasn't sure exactly where those two minutes had gone, but in precisely 120 seconds, Spock sought entry into his room. Jim was shirtless but said "yeah, sure, come in."

Before Spock had the chance to begin speaking, his eyes swept over Jim's shirtless body. Jim took note and immediately a rosy blush sprang to his chest and cheeks. He groped through his stuffed dresser and yanked on a shirt as soon as possible.

The shirt was black and way too tight and when Spock sat down next to him he felt like he couldn't breathe. Immediately images of his dreams sprang to mind. He knew they weren't dreams. He knew they were different…they were memories. Mental leftovers from the mind meld with Ambassador Spock on Delta Vega.

Suddenly he looked at Spock and realized that his friend's cheeks were burning green. It hit him that he had been openly staring at Spock, lips parted, tongue peeking out of his bottom lip as he mentally flipped through the R rated picture book in his mind.

His heart now beat so loud that he was 90% sure Spock could physically hear it pumping blood furiously through his body. His pants felt tight, his head felt like air.

Jim cleared his throat and said "so…what'd you want to talk about Spock?" The science officer regained his expressionless mask and said carefully…"I have been concerned about you."

Jim's heart sputtered.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he was failing to control his expressions as he sat next to Spock on the edge of his bed. His lips parted as Spock expressed his concern for him, the hot breath coming out in puffs, drying the saliva on the pink flesh.

Spock was so cool beside him, he radiated coolness. It was like running your hand over an ice cube and feeling the waves of cold rolling off.

He cleared his throat. It sounded loud in the small space between them. "What are you concerned about?"

Spock blinked, his warm eyes a sharp contrast to his cool demeanor, to his cold body.

"You have been acting…different than usual. I want to know why," he said turning his head.

Jim sighed. Again. Dammit. He looked down at the floor, tugging at his top lip with his bottom teeth.

"I uh…" he paused, considered saying that he was fine. But Spock wouldn't buy it for a second…he would just feel lied to.

He looked back up at Spock and struggled between an answer and just ogling Spock's perfect face. He was taking too long to respond.

"I've been having trouble sleeping…" he said, cutting off Spock before he had the chance to launch a response. "Do Vulcans dream Spock?" He looked up at the other man, his eyes a swimming pool of questions and emotions.

"No," Spock responded. Jim nodded almost imperceptibly. "Well…you're half human…have you ever dreamt?"

"Yes. Once." The answer surprised Jim. He felt a hundred questions spring to his tongue but kept them steadied there.

"It occurred after Vulcan was destroyed," Spock hesitated. Opening up on whatever level this was…was beyond his normal bounds. But Jim's eyes waited, his brows concentrated, his breath hitched.

"I dreamt of my mother falling to her death," he said in a quiet voice. Jim closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. "I'm sorry Spock."

A quiet beat elapsed between them.

"Are your dreams keeping you from sleeping well?" The question was innocent, but immediately Jim's mind raced to thoughts of him rutting into Spock, his hands in his jet black hair, this lips green and bitten and swollen, sweet and sour like a ripe green apple.

His mouth watered, as if on que. He had to reign in his thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, willing down an erection that he knew wasn't going anywhere as long as Spock was sitting on his bed, less than a foot away.

"Yeah…" he croaked. "I've been having a lot of dreams lately and they've been keeping me up," he dared to look up at Spock who had the tiniest hint of concern sprawled across his features. "Jim…" "Spock, I can take care of myself. Although I appreciate the concern," he was throwing his walls up.

"What have you been dreaming of?" Spock asked, pushing past the flimsy boundaries just erected.

Hesitant ocean eyes glanced over the slim, muscular body next to him. There were two dreams in particular that were robbing him of his sleep. Somehow it seemed like the easier option to tell Spock the dream that didn't involve him snapping his hips into Spock's quiet slick heat….

"Jim?"

He fought the urge to wring his hands together, so instead he placed them beside his body on the bed. Unfortunately that lessened the space between them.

"I dream a lot about…when I died," he said, the words coming out like a whisper. He looked over at Spock whose face fell into an even deeper solemnity.

"I try not to dwell on that event," Spock said, nearly broken.

"It's okay Spock…I'll be okay…I always am," he smiled but it was fake. It felt fake.

"I can't imagine not dreaming," he said nearly inaudibly to himself. "I fail to see the purpose of dreaming," Spock responded instantly.

He looked up and smiled. This time it was genuine. He loves how Spock questions things. Well, right now he loves it. Sometimes he hates it, wants to punch him in the face for his perpetual insistence when it comes to his driving curiosity.

But in this moment it makes Jim's eyes sparkle. "Dreams are important Spock…they're how humans can…deal with things, process things…" he said, his eyes darkening as he reached the end of the sentence, as if in realization.

"What is there about your death that you need to process?" Spock asked, confused. "I uh…I don't know. Dreams are also influenced by traumatic events. God…I just wish it didn't feel so real…" he admitted, dropping his head in his hands.

As soon as the words came out of his throat, he realized he probably said too much.

He quickly lifted his head out of his hands and felt like he was gravitating towards Spock. Spock. Spock. Always Spock. On the bridge and in his head…curled into his dreams like the fist the commander had wrapped around his neck that day on the bridge.

Jim's control was slipping, it was being sucked into the vortex created by Spock's eyes.

"You're in my dreams all the time," he said, realizing that his face was perfectly level with his First Officer's, the breath of the latter skimming across his skin.

His features screamed vulnerability, his eyes trained on Spock's lips.

"Do you know what I wanted more than anything in that moment…when I laid there dying?" He saw a wildfire of emotion burning beneath Spock's cool skin. "All I wanted was to feel the skin of your hand against mine."

He careened dangerously close to Spock, his skin longed for the same touch now in this moment, just as it had then. He breathed hard, his erection straining uncomfortably against his pants. Usually when he felt this way he escaped to his quarters, to his shower, and washed away the thoughts and the memories and the tension. But there was no escaping.

Against all logic, ignoring the screaming voice in his head to stop, he raised his right hand, like a street guard telling vehicles to stop..and he spread his fingers into a Vulcan salute.

Spock didn't hesitate for a moment…he brought his hand up to meet Jim's.

Jim let a sound slip from his mouth that he didn't even recognize as his own. Relief and lust and exhaustion and desperation flooded out of him with that one singular sound. Touching Spock's hand like this was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket. Something clicked in Jim's mind but he didn't even have time to realize it before Spock's hand was gone.

The Vulcan was doing a terrible job of concealing the shock in his eyes. Jim panicked. Spock was on his feet.

"I do hope that you can get better rest Captain," Spock said in a tone that reached but failed to sound normal.

Spock couldn't take it. The way Jim looked in that moment…so raw and vulnerable and…what he had felt when their hands met was indescribable. All of Jim's thoughts ran screaming through his mind. And in them were things he wasn't prepared for.

"Spock…" he said in a shattered tone.

"I must retire for the evening," Spock said, forcing his body to turn and disappear into their shared bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim's heart sank, a nauseated desperation curling into his stomach. He wanted Spock to turn around so bad, to come back.

He sat there, on the edge of his bed with a pulsing erection and a broken ego.

He remained there, motionless, his fists balled tightly into themselves and pressing into the mattress. His blue eyes glanced over at the door into his bathroom.

That's it. That's all that separated them; a bathroom. He let out a huff of a chuckle as he considered what a perfect metaphor it was. They were so close, yet so far apart. A bathroom away, but a world away. And his chest ached with how desperately he wanted to be closer.

The vulnerability in Jim's thoughts and actions scared him.

He considered standing, pacing, getting ready for bed. But he feared that if he walked into the bathroom, he wouldn't be able to resist walking through Spock's side of the door.

He felt like a damn kid, like a foolish teenager who couldn't get his way. He was angry and frustrated and confused; emotions that he had felt more and more since his death.

He slammed his eyes shut and listened to his breathing. The more he tried to ignore the pounding heat pressing against his pants, the harder he got.

Typically the captain would do his best to keep the content of his dreams (involving Spock) locked away in his memories. He tried not to pull on them, not to summon them.

But his hand stung, it tingled and tickled, and when he concentrated, it was like he could still feel Spock's hand pressed up against his. The touch, it was like a drug, and it lit something on fire inside of him that he had only previously felt in his dreams.

Something was waking up inside of Jim and it was his greatest fear that Spock would shut it down, take it away.

He let that same hand press firmly against his straining length. A low moan rumbled past his lips and with clumsy fingers he undid the button on his pants and slid down the zipper. He turned onto his bed on his belly, a hand snaked down into his pants, pushing past the fabric of his boxers.

It was like the moment before deciding to jump off a cliff - there was no stopping - this was a slippery slope and his resolve was gone. He conjured up the images that haunted his dreams, setting his mind adrift in a crashing ocean of tangled limbs, teeth and lips and moans of pleasure.

His hot breath gathered in his pillow and added to the sweat already budding on his face. Jim gulped down feelings of guilt and focused on the memory of Spock stretching out inside of him.

It was the first dream he ever had of them together like that. It stood out vividly in his mind, the memories springing to life in a torrent of emotions and sensations.

Spock was on him, in him, filling him to the brim, until his balls bucked against his body. They were face to face, slick black bangs hanging above his head as his body was rocked back and forth.

His hand moved faster, rougher, twisting as it reached the head, gathering the liquid that had formed there and using it to move even faster. He rolled on his back with a thud.

Spock's lips were kiss bitten, a single drop of green blood trickling down his chin from a tiny cut Jim had sliced into his plump lips with his sharp eye tooth. They rocked together, the bed groaning in protest, obscene noises slipping past his and Spock's mouths.

His starving hands grasped at Spock's cool body, wanting more, needing more. He heard himself say the word "more" in his dreams, and said it again now, into his room as he arched his back and rolled his eyes into his head.

He was here in this reality, but he wasn't…was he moaning into his dream, or was it out loud? His whole body shuddered as his balls drew together. "Spock…" he pleaded into the air.

The Vulcan looked down at him through hooded lids. His eyes were black with lust and affection. "Come with me Spock." The Vulcan's eyes fell closed, his head lowered, as if he couldn't take it.

He bucked his dick into his hands, and every nerve in his body begged for release.

"Th'y'la. I am always with you," Spock answered. He had misconstrued the word, yet his answer was priceless.

Spock pounded into Jim, his double headed dick hitting Jim's prostate at every swipe, making him see stars. He arced up, smearing his sweaty forehead against Spock's. "Th'y'la" the words came pouring out of his mouth as his orgasm pulsed against his still clothed chest.

He rode the waves of orgasm until they ebbed, and ceased. His eyes were closed, a hand still around his spent cock, it was Spock's hand. Spock was above him, mouth parted, looking into his soul.

When he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the ceiling, he was overcome with the feeling of loss. The silence of the room sat like a dead weight on his chest and squeezed at his heart.

He was so tired….but dreaded sleep.

Spock was with Uhura…he had to let this go. He had to let these feelings for Spock go.

Jim turned on his side, facing the wall and was startled by the devastation he felt creeping down his spine.

Walking away from Jim was … more than hard. But Spock reasoned that it was only logical to pause the situation for further reflection.

He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of Jim's raw emotions, especially not the amount of desire he felt bleeding past his shields.

His mind couldn't make sense of why it had felt so difficult to leave the room. Jim's voice, his plea in the form of Spock's name nearly shattered his resolve.

He paused, then continued forward into their shared bathroom, then his room, each door swooshing open and then closed.

He felt uneasy, emotional, beside himself. He sat on his bed and attempted to calm his mind, to clear his emotions, but he found it exceedingly difficult.

The electric current that passed between their touching hands illuminated the fine webs of what Spock knew could be a strong bond. His mind reached towards Jim, uncurling it's neuron laced fingers towards the golden light of his captain.

It startled him. He pulled away, extracted himself from a situation that was barreling towards emotional instability. He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe.

What he didn't expect was to be startled once again; this time as he sat in his room, deep in reflection.

His better-than-average Vulcan hearing heard Jim breathing heavily. He gulped and re-focused, feeling ill at the thought of intruding on his Captain's privacy.

But a moan cracked through the nearly solid rock of meditation that Spock had erected. It resonated in his body, sending a shot of arousal straight to his groin.

He made an attempt to steady his breathing, to center his mind, but he was failing. He heard a whisper of his name. He wished he could deny it, think that he heard wrong, but he knew he didn't. It was his name whispered between the moans of a man, of his best friend, who was pleasuring himself in the room next to his.

Only by force of will did Spock manage to suppress a moan. A weak erection had bloomed into a desperate pounding that sought release.

In vain he wished that he couldn't hear so well. He shifted on the mat lying on the floor of his bedroom. A botched attempt at meditation. He felt frustrated despite his arousal. He didn't ask for this.

Rich brown eyes flicked over to the bathroom door.

His heart continued to beat wildly in his side and nearly came to a stop as he heard one word bleed through the double set of doors that separated their rooms…"Th'y'la."


	4. Chapter 4

Jim of course had no way of realizing what Spock had heard through the reinforced walls that separated their rooms. Therefore it was only logical to leave the events unacknowledged. It had been three days since their hands had touched in Jim's room.

Spock never asked for such an attachment to his captain. In fact, the feelings he harbored made him feel somewhat ashamed. Never had he been so … vulnerable towards another life form. Not even Nyota Uhura.

It was clear two months ago that Spock must terminate that relationship, and he did exactly that. His admiration and feelings towards her had always remained the same…stagnant…they never changed or grew. But his feelings for Jim were ever-changing.

He thought of these things as he made his way tot he bridge, his footsteps falling loudly with each step. He turned the corner and ended up the familiar, bright white room. The bridge was relatively quiet.

Checkov was going to say something to Spock but decided against it when he noticed the Vulcan's positively sour disposition.

Spock felt angry and he didn't know why. Which only made him more angry. He pushed back against his emotions but they seemed to continually resurface. He couldn't even successfully meditate this morning.

"G'morning Spock," Jim said with a tiny half smile. The captain was absolutely emanating "normalcy." But it had the exact opposite effect, only ramping up the awkward tension clinging to the space between them.

"Good morning captain," Spock returned coldly, before turning and sitting at his station.

Jim cleared his throat and picked up his PADD. There wasn't too much going on at the moment, it was going to be a slow week, and Jim wasn't sure he could handle spending too much time in his own head.

The shift went by slowly but smoothly. It was nearly over before Jim decided to try and involve Spock in a conversation. Some of the tension had melted away (or so he thought) and so he approached the Vulcan. This time with a smile that was warm, and not just warmed over.

"Having fun Spock?" Jim jested.

Spock was most definitely not having fun. He spent a third of his shift actually focused on work, and the other two thirds trying to make sense of the events that transpired between himself and Jim.

He nearly had it with relationships all together. Without friendships or relationships he calculated that he'd be 12% more efficient at his work at 20% more mentally and emotionally stable.

"Certainly not," he answered his captain, eyes still glued to his PADD. Jim's jaw tightened, his eyes growing sad. "I was just kidding Spock…I know it's been kind of slow lately." "On the contrary," Spock said. "Being at warp gives us a great opportunity to conduct research and file reports."

Jim stood above his first officer, his hands on his hips, and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Well, maybe you want to take a break from all that and grab a bite to eat…with Bones and myself?

"I'm not hungry," Spock answered, the tone of the words like a cold slap of concrete. It was nearly a growl.

Jim's eyes scanned over Spock, who finally relented and looked back at his captain. The bright baby blue eyes shifted nervously beneath drawn eyebrows that reflected a depth of grief Spock was unprepared to see.

It was really stupid, but in that moment, Jim felt like he was losing Spock. Like he shot up their friendship with a phaser three days ago it was doomed to die. The thought of losing Spock's friendship made his blood run cold, and drew liquid to his eyes. He felt such panic that he had done irreparable damage to their relationship.

Every ounce of anger Spock harbored immediately dissipated upon seeing Jim's face…so sad and broken. And he put that expression there, he caused that reaction, it was his fault.

"Maybe next time," Jim said in a whisper, cutting off whatever Spock was about to say, his soft alien lips parted and paused, his expression softened.

The captain disappeared off the bridge and the next shift's crew began shuffling in. He knew that the crew had witnessed the interaction. He knew they knew that something was…off. He could feel the judgement in their gazes.

Spock realized now that he hadn't just turned down Jim's offer for dinner…he…brushed him off…sent him away. He wondered if the subtleties of human interaction would forever escape him.

He hoped not.

It was the first time in three days that Jim had made a real attempt to move forward with their friendship and Spock just slammed the metaphorical door shut in his face.

Immediately, he regretted it.

The shower water was bracingly hot. Jim let the liquid slide across his skin, leaving the flesh beneath a screaming shade of red.

He and Spock hadn't really spoken for three days and today, when he gathers up his bravery and attempts to launch back into his commander's orbit, he crashed and burned.

After the brief conversation, Jim went to dinner with Bones, to keep up appearances. But the second he was done eating he was taking long strides towards his quarters. In a flurry he was in his room, peeling clothes off before the door had even locked. He left a trail of garnets on the floor leading to the shower.

Once inside, beneath the steady stream of steaming water, he took deep breaths, practically able to feel his breath cutting through the humidity around him. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor was soothing. When he closed his eyes and listened, it reminded him of rain. He thought that if he didn't have such a miserable childhood…he might actually miss Earth.

It'd be nice to have something to miss…other than Spock. Something to think about…other than Spock. But he knew that all he wanted to think about was Spock. To feel the other man's hand against his again, or on his face, or sliding down his body.

The want was overwhelming…the need was suffocating. Jim's back slid against the shower wall, he wished it had a texture. Something for his skin to rub against, a sensation to ground him in this moment and get him out of his own head.

These lengthy showers…he used them to wash the day off, to recompose himself, but he felt as though this shower was having the very opposite effect. He chuckled to himself as he thought of what a train wreck all of this was.

If he was failing to lose himself in this scalding hot shower, then he should probably get out before his skin began to cook. Still, the intense heat and heavy steam felt so good as it beat down on his broad shoulders and fell along the curve of his spine.

Maybe the shower was helping after all. For once he managed to not jack off to the thought of Spock. He never thought he'd be relieved by this…but for the last few nights he had been largely unable to sleep. He wasn't startled awake with visions of dying or the overwhelming feelings of grief and loss. He just stayed in the gray space between wake and sleep, and surprisingly, he wasn't too tired.

"Captain," the voice once again cut through the locked door and through the thick air of the steamed bathroom. It startled Jim out of his thoughts. He reached a bright red arm out and turned off the shower. The water came to a halt, it's soothing noise disappearing into solid silence.

"Yes?" Jim asked, surprised that Spock would interrupt his private time. "When you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you," the voice returned. "My quarters?" Spock asked. "Uh, sure," Jim said, scrambling out of the shower and toweling off at super speed. He picked up the pants lying on the bathroom floor and struggled to slip them on past still wet legs.

He hopped around a bit and finally made it to the door. It whooshed open and what felt like arctic air flew over the hot red flesh of his bare chest. His shirt hadn't made it to the bathroom and he didn't want to wait to hear whatever it was Spock wanted to say, so he launched into Spock's room wearing his uniform pants and still toweling of his dripping hair.

Spock looked surprised, taken off guard. "Well, that was fast," Spock ventured. "I must admit that I had expected you to get dressed first." "Sorry," Jim said, entering the room. God he was so awkward. You'd think the captain of an entire star ship wouldn't be so friggin awkward.

"I'm surprised that you want to talk to me," Jim said, going out on a limb. "From our short conversation earlier, I thought you were mad at me." Spock's expression shifted, but Jim couldn't tell exactly what emotion had just scurried across the man's features.

"That is why I wanted to talk to you captain." "Dear god man…it's Jim," he said exasperated.

"Jim…I never meant to hurt your feelings."

"I know Spock."

"You do?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Jim's flesh was still sun burn red and the situation at hand wasn't exactly helping to cool him down.

He rubbed the back of his neck, digging his short nails into the soft hairs at the bottom of his head.

"I don't want to lose your friendship," he confessed in a near whisper, eyes looking not exactly at Spock's chest, but past him, to his own thoughts. "If I shared too much with you the other day Spock…I'm sorry…"

"You have nothing to apologize for," the Vulcan said, moving closer to Jim, eyebrows drawn together. "You did not share too much with me Jim. I was simply unprepared…" "For what?" "For what I felt when I touched your hand. I had my shields up, but could still feel the weight of your emotions."

Jim gulped, his stomach turned. Touch telepath…fuck. He…didn't even consider that when he brought his hand up, an invitation for Spock's touch. Suddenly his skin felt much hotter.

"Are you alright Jim?" Spock asked, aware of what Jim was only just now realizing. "Your skin is particularly red," he reached a hand up as if to touch, but stopped just short of Jim's collar bone.

There were just about a thousand things Jim wanted to say and ask and do, but in that moment all he wanted was the touch of the other man. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he decided to take a step forward before Spock had the time to retract the hand. But he moved forward so slowly that Spock could back out if he wanted. But he didn't.

The fingers touched against the reddened flesh of Jim's collarbone. They tingled against his skin. "We are still friends, right Spock?" "Yes," Spock answered without hesitation, giving a slight nod and a gentle squeeze of the hand still on Jim. Then the hand disappeared, the flesh beneath feeling suddenly too cold.

"I … there's so much I wish I could say to you Spock …" Jim said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then why don't you?"

Jim shifted uncomfortably. He didn't have an answer ready to give his first officer.

"Is it because of my involvement with Nyota?"

Jim's eyes snapped up to meet his friend's, the look in them questioning.

"I am no longer romantically involved with Nyota."

"Wha…? When did that happen?"

"Approximately two months ago," Spock answered. Jim lent forward, disbelief in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't realize until recently that it was information worth sharing."

Jim's stance had become defensive. He huffed, turned towards the bathroom door. He tried to see things from Spock's perspective. Clearly the man did not understand what "friendship" entailed.

"Spock…that's the kind of thing that you can tell your friend," Jim finally said.

"I realize that now," Spock responded softly. He knew that he had hurt Jim by not telling him. The captain looked angry, his chest rose and fell quickly. "I…." Jim killed the premature sentence with a sigh of disbelieve. He was so angry that he was pacing. He wanted to strangle Spock, or punch him.

He moved closer to Spock, anger etched into his features, his fists balled up in frustration. Spock didn't move, he just let his captain walk right up to him with a burning intensity. Jim stopped, only inches from his face, and paused. He stood perfectly still for a minute and then slipped a hand behind Spock's hand that was resting at Spock's side.

He felt Jim's touch lightly brush down his palm and then the pads of Jim's fingers were on his, and a flurry of electric sparks traveled between them. Jim's forehead was against Spock's now, his breath flitting across Spock's lips. His fingers were sliding so minutely against Spock's.

Jim was kissing him.


End file.
